


Paranormal Activity

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-08
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: What if Brian watched Jason Kemp get thrown into the dumpster? What if his killer wasn't done? What if Jason Kemp decided to haunt Brian? What if Justin could talk to dead people?It's not as crack-y as it sounds. Takes place mostly during the Season 3 setting, but Brian and Justin haven't met yet and there's no Ethan involved.The prologue is shorter than chapters.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“Thanks again for letting me borrow the jeep. I promise I’ll take good care of it…” Michael attempts to assure his friend. They walk side-by-side out of Babylon, the bouncers ripping off Brian’s clothes with their eyes. Brian smiles to himself, pleased as he walks through the doors. Once passed them he bundles up for the cold with a P-coat and heaves a sigh that turns into smoke-like condensation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just try to bring it back to me the way it looks now…” he flinches thinking back to the last time he let Mikey borrow his jeep… the vivid memory of the word “Fag” spray painted across the side of his precious vehicle igniting some kind of bittersweet feeling. As funny as the experience was, he’d rather not repeat it.

“Ben and I… we’re going to park it a block down though…” Michael starts, catching Brian attention.

“Uh, why?”

Michael sighs, “This… bandit of teenage prostitutes stand outside our building and try to sell themselves,” he explains. “The other night, Ben and I went out there to ask them to do it quieter or move or _something_ and they tried to tempt us…”

“Well that’s usually what they do,” Brian says as a matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, well I wish they’d do it somewhere else… you want me to drop you off at the loft?” Mikey offers pulling Brian’s keys out of his pocket. He’d made sure he’d gotten them earlier incase Brian got busy and left early. You never know when it comes to Brian Kinney.

Brian takes a vile out of his pocket and sniffs the contents. “Nah, I think I’ll walk,” he decides shaking his head and letting the drugs overtake his mind, body and soul. Or something incredibly pathetic like that.

Michael shakes his head wearily, “Well be careful and call me when you get in. Just so I know you’re safe.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “Yes Debbie,” he says sharply before turning on his heal. Mikey shakes his head as he watches his best friend disappear into the cold Pittsburgh air.

*

Brian knows that he’s coming up on the diner soon and thinks if Debbie’s inside, he might grab a lemon square. He knows she picked up the graveyard shift for three nights out of the week, but he just can’t remember what three nights they were. Well, whatever. His stomach is definitely asking for lemon squares…

That’s one of the downsides to consuming drugs. Eating habits always get thrown out of wack and the only things your stomach will permit your body to fully digest are munchies. So Brian does his best at being a stoner, but not quite a burnout. Not being a drug-addict, but being a person who consumes drugs recreationally on most weekends. Not a drug-addict. Not _really_. He could go without the drugs, he just chooses not to.

As his feet move along the sidewalk, his minds drifts to earlier in the night when he was getting blown by this Spanish dude with the sexiest accent he’d ever heard. He spoke Spanish in his ear and Brian’s mind was already entertaining itself with all the different ways he could fuck him. What this guy was doing in Pittsburgh? Brian had no clue, but he was sure to get his number so they could get together before he had to go back to… wherever the accent came from.

Suddenly Brian hears the distinct noise of something being dragged on pavement and freezes up. He looks in front of him and behind him and sees a few other night stragglers, but nothing weird. The diner is only a block away so he quickens his pace until he’s only a few buildings away. Then he hears the noise again. This time he stops his movements because it’s getting louder and then he sees movement coming from the alley next to his destination. For some reason, he feels the need to hide and through his drugged up haze, puts himself out of site by getting in the doorway of some other business.

He watches… not scared, but being cautious about what he’s witnessing. A bulky male figure dragging something mangled… possibly an oversized duffle bag of some sort. Once next to the dumpster outside the Liberty Diner, the figure bends down to pick up his-

Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. _Christ!_

To Brian’s horror, he realizes that the thing the man was dragging wasn’t a bag.

But a body.

The man then proceeds to dump the body in the dumpster, afterwards, walking down the sidewalk and turning down the next street. Brian waits a few more seconds before returning to the sidewalk and running up the steps leading to the diner. Much to his relief, Debbie is sitting at a booth across from a blonde kid. There’s nobody else present, which is surprising considering this is Liberty Avenue, but he supposes, it must happen. When he walks in, she looks up and smiles, getting to her feet.

“Brian, what a pleasure to…”

“Deb, you need to call the cops…”

“…see yuh- What?” her entire demeanor changes in an instant. The blonde boy, still sitting at the booth whips his head around.

“What’s going on?” he asks, but Brian ignores him.

“I just watched a man put a body in your dumpster,” he explains, with haste looking into Debbie’s eyes.

“What? Honey, oh my god…” Slowly Debbie covers her mouth with her hand and walks over to the phone. She dials 9-1-1 and waits only seconds to be put through.

_“… Please state your emergency…”_

“There’s a body in the dumpster outside of the Liberty Avenue Diner…”

Brian nods his head to her and she nods back. Debbie knows why he has to leave. Why he couldn’t report it himself… He’s on one too many drugs to dare stick around and talk to the cops. Just as he exits, he notices the blonde boy’s eyes aren’t looking at him, but just to his left. Brian questions if he’s retarded or has a lazy eye or something because when he glances to the left, he sees nothing.

Whatever.

He rushes home, one foot in front of the other, moving at a brisk pace. He feels like someone is watching him, but chalks it up to the fact he knows there’s a killer on the loose. As much as he’d love to come off as a tough guy… that scene back there kinda freaked him out. That’s definitely the reason for all the hair on the back of his neck to stick up on end.

Right?


	2. Chapter One

Last night ended up being the night from hell. Three times Brian’s alarm clock went off for absolutely no fucking reason. He ended up unplugging the damn thing only to wake up hours later and twenty minutes late for work.

Then his phone rang while he was in the shower, so he rushed out, soaking wet and freezing cold to answer the thing only to hear static then dial tone. He returned to the shower, but was then burned by scalding hot water, so he quickly turned the cold up more, but then the water pressure came on full blast making him absolutely freezing cold. Cussing a storm, he returned the knobs to their normal settings.

The water returned to normal and he was able to continue his shower.

At this point of time, he’s struggling to find his other fucking shoe while Michael bangs on the door to his loft.

“Can you hold on a fucking second!” he shouts over his shoulder, finally finding his priceless shoe under a side table. _How the fuck did it get over there?_ Fuck it, he’d rather not know.

When he slides open the door he looks disheveled and annoyed and pushes passed Michael without second thought.

“Hi, how are you? Really? Aw, I’m sorry,” Michael says to the absence of Brian.

“Shut up and let’s go, I’m running late,” he grunts.

“Mom told me what happened last night…” Michael says while he follows Brian down the stairs. Brian makes an indescribable noise which Mikey knows translates into, ‘I don’t want to fucking talk about it,’ but he has to push the envelope. “Are you okay? If I saw-”

“Could you _kindly_ shut that hole in your face?” he asks sounding irritated. When they reach his vehicle, which seems to be in the same condition he left it in, he climbs in the driver’s seat and finds the keys in the ignition. Michael climbs in the passenger side.

“Are you trying to get my jeep stolen?” he questions his best friend. Michael rolls his eyes.

“I figured you would be right out, biting my head off because I was late…”

“Why were you late, anyway?” Brian cuts him off. Mikey sighs.

“Ben’s flight got delayed and I didn’t want to leave him…” he explains shyly knowing that Brian will give him shit for it.

“Aw, how adorable.” Brian says in baby-talk mocking Michael. Michael doubts he’ll ever be able to actually talk to Brian about his true feelings with Ben. But Ben needs to do this… he needs to travel and experience everything he can dream up. He understands.

Brian watches sadness cover Mikey’s face and sighs. “He’ll be back soon and you and him can get that house and have a family like all the other ball-less fags and live happily ever after with 2.5 kids.”

Mikey half smiles, knowing how much it takes Brian to even say something like that. “Thanks Brian…” he sighs, dejected. Brian changes the radio in reply.

*

After dropping off Michael where he works, Brian finally finds himself walking through the doors of Vanguard. He looks just as pissy and annoyed as he is, and no one even dares to look him in the eyes as he travels up the elevator to his office, over-sweetened coffee in hand.

Of course, everyone except Cynthia…

“Do I even want to hear your excuse for being over _thirty minutes_ late?” she questions.

Brian rolls his eyes, “No, you don’t. Go fetch the boards for the allergy medication…” he snaps at her.

“You know, I will because you _are_ my boss and you _were_ supposed to look at those first thing thirty minutes ago, but next time you use the word fetch, I might just lose some very important paperwork,” she threatens walking out. “I’m not your dog,” she points out with a smirk. Brian catches her arm just as her body leaves the door.

“But you are my assistant and if you do that and you might just lose your job…”

She glares at him through squinted eyes. _You won this time…_ She tugs her arm free from his grasp, fixes her shirt and walks away thinking to herself about how awesome her boss is.

Brian chuckles to himself, but at the same time groans. Today is going to be a long day and the fact that he barely got any sleep last night just sucks all the more.

*

“Stockwell is here to meet with you,” Cynthia smiles politely knocking in on Brian’s door. She finds him hunched over his desk, eyes closed and frowns a little feeling sorry for her boss. As much as working for him can suck at times, (though quite rarely, she’ll admit because she loves her job) she’d never want _his_ job. He made three presentations today and had to come up with at least six slogans for the latest Viagra-wannabe performance enhancer. In between client meetings, he had to go around and get on everyone’s ass or else nothing would ever be done on time… Personally she enjoys being Brian’s bitch because that pretty much means that everyone else that works at Vanguard will do whatever she asks because look who she’s reporting to. Give her a hard time and your job may just vanish. Everyone has seen Brian hand out pink-slips and nobody wants to be on the receiving end.

She watches as Mr. Kinney slowly lifts his head up and shakes his neck out a bit. “Can you give me a minute and then send him in?” he requests after loudly clearing his throat. He starts rubbing his eyes and stretching a bit. “Hello… a minute?” he motions to her when she doesn’t leave, his annoyed state from early this morning returning.

“Yes sir, I’ll send him in…” The door closes.

Fuck.

Stockwell is pretty much the last person Brian actually wants to see. He’s an obvious fag-hater but above all, Brian has to kiss his ass and if there’s one thing Brian can’t stand doing above anything else, it’s kissing someone else’s ass. Not in the literal sense, but the figurative one… Yeah, he hates that.

Even though Brian likes to act like he’s the one with the upper-hand, the ball is in Stockwell’s side of the court and at any moment he can call game over, regardless of the score.

“Mr. Kinney, how are you feeling this afternoon?” Jim Stockwell asks with a toothy smile plastered to his face. Brian can’t help but roll his eyes at the comb-over and wonder if he practiced that smile in front of the mirror. Every time he sees the man, he never ceases to make him chuckle.

He swallows down a yawn and stands up to shake his client’s hand. “I’m feeling just peachy, how about you?”

Like the jerk that he is, Stockwell ignores the question, wiping the hand he just shook Brian’s hand with on his pants, discreetly. Brian grits his teeth and forces a smile.

“I just wanted to see you to thank you for all your efforts on my campaign. Thanks to the commercial you’ve been running, I’ve just jumped up in the polls. You’ve really got people talking-”

“Well congratulations…” Brian cuts him off expertly. The trick is to do it where the sentence could end, and just act like you didn’t notice. He learned that in college. “That’s the main purpose of the ad, to get people talking about you… that _is_ why you’re paying me.”

“And so far you’ve been worth every cent, but…” Stockwell trails off… sighs.

_God, he’s such a prick…_

“But?”

“But I have some concerns…”

*

Today was just one of those days where the entire drive home, the only thing on Brian’s mind is taking a shower and getting laid. In fact, those are pretty much Brian’s most favorite things to do. If he could get paid for showering, he would make a killing. However, the idea is totally irrational unless he wanted to become a model and as fun as it would be to fuck all the handsome young devils, he mildly enjoys feeling like he worked for his money. Earned it fair and square… And today… he can definitely feel that.

The door to the loft slides open with ease, but the sight that greets the owner isn’t all too pleasant.

“What the fuck?” he asks to no one in particular. There’s three smashed glasses on the floor in the kitchen area. Quickly, Brian looks around checking to make sure all his expensive shit is still present so then…

“Did someone break into my house, break a few glasses and run away?” the thought is so idiotic that he vocalizes it for kicks. If someone did break into his house they sure would have taken _something_ , but what? There’s nothing missing! He runs to his room and checks all of his clothes, goes into the bathroom… everything seems to be in order.

Huh… Oh well.

He walks back to his bed and strips to nothing, throwing his clothes in pile next to his closet. He’s way too tired to be his anal self, which is fine. A little untidiness here and there is understandable.

Turning on the water, Brian gets back under the spray of his shower for the second time today. He lets the water run over his exhausted muscles and through his hair, finally allowing himself to fully relax.

Talking with Stockwell drained him of nearly all his energy. Personally, Brian is pretty sure that Stockwell is one of, if not the most unintelligible person he’s ever come in contact with… which is saying something if you really think about it.

In other words- Stockwell is as smart as a rock and wanted Brian to explain the image he’s being portrayed as to, as he put it, “Better understand his character.”

Brian wanted to point out that he’s not _playing_ a character, but the thought of having to go into an even deeper explanation kept his mouth shut. Talking to Stockwell felt like talking to a four year old and considering the fact the man was running for mayor, Brian was partially scared of what he got himself into.

Just as Brian is about to shut the water off, he swears he sees something through the foggy glass of his shower. Furrowing his eyebrows, he clears the fog with his hand and nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds himself face to face with a very pale blonde boy, only the glass separating them. He jerkily backs away, covers his face with his hand, and reopens his eyes only to find that no one’s there.

What. The. Fuck.

_I must be more tired then I thought…_ he thinks while yawning. Yeah… see. I’m just tired. Simply… over tired.

Turning the water up in a series of frantic hand movements, Brian tries to tell himself he’s not seeing things. Like blond teenage boys… exiting the shower, he grabs a towel and starts looking around his house. Just in case.

“Hello?” he asks loudly to the silence of his home. For a long moment, only dead air fills the room, but this feeling and the blonde boys face are still fresh in his mind. It's like this freaky sixth sense thing that Brian's picking up on for the first time.

"You owe it to me," says a breathy voice in the back of his head. Brian turns around and sees the boy again. He's got hideous, tacky colored clothes on and his lips are blue.

Brian backs away, blinking his eyes furiously, but the figure doesn't disappear.

"I don't owe you shit, I don't know you," he hears himself saying through wavering vocal chords. _This is crazy…_ he thinks. Suddenly his mind rewinds itself to watching a body being lifted into a dumpster.

_No._

Brian looks up and the blonde kid is still staring at him. The boy nods his head, answering Brian’s silent question.

“Fuck,” is all Brian can think to say and he turns around quickly biting his lip and closing his eyes.

“Get the fuck away from me, I don’t fucking care,” he says loudly in a false commanding tone.

When he turns back around, he senses it more than feels it. Whatever the fuck that was… it’s gone.

For now.


	3. Chapter Two

Target:

Silken tan skin.  
Brown eyes.  
Sexy plump lips.  
Hair curling around his face.  
Abs to die for.

Position:

Dance floor.  
Ten feet away.

Brian picks out his next trick tiredly, almost as if he doesn’t care. Of course, they have to meet all the initial requirements, and this new guy does. For one, he’s gotta be hot enough to catch _Brian’s_ eye, which within itself is quite the accomplishment. Second of all, Brian’s pretty sure he hasn’t fucked him before, which is always the first question he asks himself when on the look-about.  
   
Brian keeps his eyes on his prey, waiting patiently. In his younger days he would go after guys he wanted to fuck, loving every moment. Never once turned down… Now he finds more enjoyment reeling in any guy that he wants to fuck.

The process, according to Brian, all starts with eye contact.

He leans back against the bar and tips his drink up to his lips. _Perfection…_ he thinks to himself relishing in the fact that the small movement caught his targets attention. He feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows down the cool liquid and knows all eyes are on him. When he finishes his drink, he places the bottle back on the bar and locks eyes with Mr. Sexy Lips still on the dance floor. When he walks to the backroom, it’s almost like the sea of moving bodies part, just for him. He steals a glance behind himself and there’s Mr. Sexy Lips who obviously knows when to take a hint. Brian smiles to himself, fulfilled.

*

Turns out Mr. Sexy Lip’s real name is Darren or Danny, or D- something. Oh well, it’s a lost cause anyway. After he sucked Brian’s cock, Brian decided he was good enough to invite to the loft. That part of the mission takes some more qualifications such as a higher standard of skills and abilities.

As the elevator to the Loft comes to a halt, Brian pulls Sexy Lips’ lips away from his neck and pulls open the door.

Sex Lips looks around with wonder at Brian’s place. He’s heard rumors about the loft; they flutter around the gay community like urban legends or myths. He knows it’s an honor to be standing here and looking with his own eyes.

“Nice place,” he whispers breathily. 

Brian rolls his eyes. _How many times have I heard that before?_

“Thanks, the beds through there…” he replies pushing his guest inside and pointing to his bedroom. “I’ll meet you there in five,” he says deciding to get something to drink last minute.

“I love the furniture,” Damien(?) raves getting little to no reaction from Brian. The guy finally takes the hint and realizes his purpose here. While Brian drinks liquor out of the bottle, he heads into the man’s bedroom to undress.

As soon as he enters the bedroom area, he gets this feeling. This unexplainable prick that starts from the center of his back and spreads outwards until every hair on his skin feels like it’s sticking up. He involuntarily shivers, and feels goose bumps rise on his skin. That’s when it happens. Just when he thinks he can’t get any edgier, he swears to God, he feels a hand touch his back and shove him forward.

“What the-“

He whips around quickly and finds no one there.

“Is there a reason why you still have clothes on?” Brian questions while walking up the steps to his bed.

Sexy lips whips around again.

“What’s going on in here?” he asks, his voice sounding prissy. Brian furrows his brow, wobbling slightly on his feet, maybe a little more drunk then he thought.

“Well you’re supposed to undress and bend over and then I’ll-”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash from the kitchen and Brian reels around to find another one of his glasses, shattered on the floor.

“Who did that? How did that happen?”  Sex Lips demands. He passes Brian and looks to where he heard the noise come from. He becomes paralyzed when he swears for a fraction of a second he saw a figure, it wasn’t there long enough to make out features, but he saw it, like a shadow in his mind, and that’s enough for him.

“Fuck this shit, I’m outta here,” he whimpers pathetically looking back a Brian.

Brian stands there watching as his trick literally runs out the door, not even closing it behind him. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs dramatically. He walks to his door, avoiding the glass, and closes it. Then he puts his back to the door and looks around his loft.

“What the fuck do you want…” he yells, eyes scanning for a reaction.

Nothing happens… the lights don’t flicker. No more glasses break, not apparitions appear.

But words form in Brian head that he can’t explain… and he doesn’t like.

_You can help me._

*

When Brian walks into the diner, its well passed midnight and Debbie is taking an order from a group of drugged up teenagers. He contemplates taking a seat at a booth, but decides to just sit at the counter instead. Naturally, after his trick left he located his tin and rolled a quick joint. Of course, the munchies set in, and while normally his self-control is superb, tonight was a total disaster and fuck it. He can afford the splurge from his diet. It’s not like he’s ‘riding the find line’ between thick and thin or anything.

“Coffee?”

Brian looks up alarmed, accustomed to Debbie’s voice being the one to snap him out of it. Instead he finds this blonde haired kid standing in front of him holding a coffee pot in each hand.

“Uh, no thanks,” he replies.

“Can I get you anything?” the blonde then continues.

“At this time of night, there’s only one thing he comes in for, _besides reporting murders,_ ” Debbie says from behind him, placing the teenagers’ orders on the revolver to the kitchen. “Lemon Squares!” she smiles excited almost like she just told a joke. Brian smiles without showing teeth.

“You got me,” he muses with her while the blonde kid takes it upon himself to grab his dessert. The kid places it on a plate. Brian deadpans him.

“Can I get it to go?” he questions, maybe slightly rude.

“Hey, be nice to sunshine, he’s new to Liberty Avenue and he’s scared by what he saw last night…”

“Sunshine?”

Brian watches as the blonde dubbed ‘Sunshine’ blushes, deeply. The redness of his cheeks makes him look adorable in contrast to his pale, smooth-looking skin.

“Your mommy bless you with such a name?” he asks raising an eyebrow.

“No, I did. You got a problem with that?” Deb replies while tossing a box at her surrogate son. Two guys walk in and take a seat at a booth. Debbie runs off to get their order.

“Uh, you know he’s following you?” the blonde kid suddenly asks. 

Brian eyes furrow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about… he says you’re supposed to help him, but you’re not doing a very good job. Too many e-ex-extra…curricular activities?” 

The way the kid says the last part almost sounds like he’s saying it as he hears it. It kinda creeps Brian out. While he’s speaking, he puts Brian’s square into the box… _but_ before Brian has any chance to talk back, the blonde kid disappears to the backroom with a tub of dishes and maybe Brian’s a little too freaked out to go after him.

*

After a long day at work, Debbie finally cuts Justin loose. She invites him over for dinner tomorrow night, when they both have the evening off, but Justin declines, gracefully. He grabs his P-coat along with his blue scarf and puts them on, preparing for the chilly weather outside.

It’s not often that a spirit asks him to give a message to someone and frankly, it kind of freaks him out. But he knows it’s a part of his life and its better to just go along with it than fight it. He knew once he first saw that dumpster boy’s spirit, he was probably going to see him again. Their eyes connected for a long moment, before Jason, Justin sensed that was his name, disappeared, following the man Debbie told him was Brian.

Justin’s weird. He knows that. Seeing dead people really isn’t that accepted in society. Since he was four he started seeing things that no one else could. The spirits seemed to float above the ground sometimes, and go about their business. Some spirits know that they’re dead and just want to stick around while others are still blissfully unaware. The ones that know that they’re dead, often notice Justin can see them. When he was a kid, it used to scare him because he always felt like they were just staring at him, but as Justin got older he realized that he was the one in control and as long as he had the will power to keep his energy and their energy separate, then he could survive anything.

When he was seven he was haunted by the shadow man. He used to tell his mother and father all the time about how the shadow man would visit him at night and threaten him. They took him to a shrink who put him on drugs and that _really_ fucked him up. Eventually he told the entity to leave him alone. He demanded it, desperately scared, but tired of his life being dictated by something that no one believed existed.

His mother sometimes seemed to believe him, but his father wouldn’t have it. When Justin was sixteen his great grandmother on his father’s side visited him. She asked him to tell her little Craig that she loved him and missed playing gin with him on Tuesdays after he came home from school. About a week after the incident he passed the message to his father and that was it. Justin was out of the picture.

After his parents divorced, his mother got a job selling houses and turned out to be really good at it. She gets enough money to pay his rent for him, as long as he can feed himself. She calls him about once a week, but never asks him about being clairvoyant. That topic is decidedly off limits.

So Justin goes about his life, he’s an artist, mostly drawing sketches of the spirits he sees. He loves to paint, but the hobby is way too expensive for him at this juncture of his life.

He goes about his days, living one day at a time, because it’s all he can do.

When he steps outside, his cell phone simultaneously vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out with his glove covered fingers and answers it hastily.

“Hello?”

“Hey Justin, you out of work?” It’s Daphne of course. She knows the hours he works better then he does himself!

“Like you really have to ask that question?” He questions her with amusement lacing his words. She laughs.

“To be honest, I just watched you walk out… need a ride? I’m right in front of you…”

Justin looks around stupidly before his eyes rest of Daphne’s car, literally parallel parked right in front of his face.

“I don’t understand how you can see spirits and shit, yet you can’t even see my car directly in front of your stupid pale face,” Daphne muses once her friend has successfully climbed into the passenger seat of her car.

Justin laughs sarcastically. “Oh ha, ha, ha, very funny Daphne,” he rolls his eyes. She laughs pulling out into the street.

“So any freaky, dramatic, made-for-TV-drama spirit encounters today?”

She asks that everyday, always in a different way. Like just saying, “So did you talk to spirits today?” simply wouldn’t be conversationally acceptable for her.

“Actually kinda. I passed on a message to this hot guy,” Justin offers.

“Hot, I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off hot, or hot as in I’d-do-him-but-he’s-nothing-special hot?” Daphne inquires like it’s an intelligible question.

Justin lets out a soft chuckle and blushes, “I definitely would have ripped off his clothes if I had the chance, but he’s way older…” Justin clarifies.

“So what was the message?” Daphne stops at a stop sign and turns right, not even thinking about where she’s going because driving Justin home is seriously on her auto-pilot.

“Well it started last night, you know that kid that was murdered?” Justin asks her.

“Duh, it’s only all over the radio and the news…”

“The kid was murdered and now he’s following this guy around, it’s crazy.”

“Do you think you’re supposed to help him or something?”

“Yeah right, Daph. That kind of shit really only happens in TV drama’s. I think you’ve been watching too many soap operas.”

Daphne quickly swats Justin on his leg. “Asshole, I do not. You’re the fucking drama queen in this relationship…”

Justin raises an eyebrow. “I dunno, hun. You kind of give me a run for my money…”

Daphne pouts for a long silent moment while Justin smirks evilly. He sees the spirit of an old man from the late 1930’s wearing a top hat walking down the street with a cane and shakes his head out of habit. The old man looks at him with something like a warning coming through his eyes. He tips his hat at Justin before continuing his stroll. Justin can feel the spirits energy. Blood will be spilled again tonight. He hates sensing the future.

“What’s that look for?” Daphne questions, curiously and maybe slightly concerned.

“I dunno. I just feel like something big is about to happen. I’m not really sure…”  



	4. Chapter Three

  
Author's notes:

I’m unbelievably sorry for this taking so long. I have no excuses. I have a busy life, but I promise that I’m not the kind of person to start something and not finish it. Please take a moment to review! Thanks to everyone that reads!

* * *

“Deb, who was the kid from last night? What’s his real name?” Brian asks while conveniently picking up a coffee on his lunch break. Since he woke up this morning, this intensely weird feeling that he needed to be at the diner overwhelmed him to the point where as soon as he had the chance, he came here right away.

“Oh, Sunshine?” she questions in her elated tone. Brian nods.

“His name is Justin; I hired him a couple of weeks ago. He came in here, desperate for a job and how could I turn down that cute little bubble butt of his…”

Brian raises both his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t notice…”

“I thought you of all people, that’d be the first thing.”

Brian’s flattered by that remark.

“So why do you ask?” Debbie rests her hands on the counter across from him. “What’s up?” she raises an eyebrow voice set in a condescending tone. Brian can tell she must really care for this kid.

“Oh nothing,” he shrugs airily. “Just saw him around and was wondering…”

“So you did notice that butt?” she corrects him, knowingly with a maternal smirk. Even though it’s not the truth, Brian goes with it because he doesn’t want to tell her the truth. The truth is just… too weird.

“Of course; you know me…” he says sarcastically ending it was a trademark toothless smile, but Deb is such a nice woman, she doesn’t even notice. She gets called off to wait on a table, so Brian sits alone and sips on his coffee.

He can feel the presence of the stupid, dead, kid from the dumpster that won’t leave him alone and something menacing is rumbling through the air. Ever since his encounter with the freaky kid, Justin, he’s felt oddly sensitive to these _feelings_ he’s been getting… and something isn’t right, right now. For some reason he feels like something really bad has happened.

Just as this thought occurs to him, one of the waitresses comes barging through the door from outside. It’s the waitress in drag, and Brian can never remember her name.

“Oh my god!” she screams causing the diner to fall silent. Brian looks over to her in her distress. “There’s another body in the trash!”

She starts crying while everyone starts whispering panicked. Three people whip out their cell phones in record speed, along with Debbie who rushes to the diner’s phone.

Brian doesn’t say anything; he’s kind of really freaked out.

*

When Justin gets to work, the police have surrounded the area. Just as he’s going up the steps, he sees the body bag being zipped up over the dead body of yet another teenage boy. He notices the spirit of the boy standing behind the officers, watching them manhandle his skin and bones… He can’t be more than 15. He has short black hair, and is wearing cargo pants and a black beater. Justin finds that strange because who the hell dresses like that in Pittsburgh in the middle of the fucking winter.

_I’m a prostitute…_ a small timid voice reaches the back of Justin’s head. He looks back and his eyes connect with the young spirit. Once he feels like it’s about to overwhelm him, he looks away and enters the diner. There are only a few people inside at this point and nobody is eating. The cook from the back is sitting at a table, everyone talking to someone looking official.

Everyone except for Debbie.

“Oh Sunshine, I meant to call you, but I forgot,” she starts talking immediately upon his arrival. You can see unshed tears in her eyes and anguish seeping through her words. Justin figures she’s sensitive to these kinds of things… death is a complicated topic for most people. Everyone deals with it in their own way.

“They found another body in our dumpster?” Justin knows the answer to that, but asks to be normal.

“Yeah, not but a couple of hours ago.”

Debbie is whispering and it makes Justin feel bad. For Debbie to _whisper_ she has to be seriously scared out of her mind, or severely shaken up. Then again, by the looks of it, there’s a serial killer on the loose, so who isn’t shaken up?

_Heh, you…_ Justin has an inner chuckle at the thought.

“Just breathe Debbie,” he tells her and puts a hand on her shoulder. She manages a smile at him and Justin can’t help but smile back, making Deb smile even wider.

“That smile of yours Sunshine… You could light up all of Liberty Avenue with that,” she says somewhat returning to her normal self.

“Thanks Deb,” Justin blushes looking down for a second. “So you don’t need me now?” he assumes, looking around the nearly empty diner.

“No, I suppose not… Looks like you got yourself the day off.”

*

Brian called in and dismissed himself from work extra early today. The fact that he felt the need to be at the diner, the same time another body was found seems less like a coincidence and more like something wanted him to be there. To find out what’s going on. To know what’s happening as it happens as oppose to after the fact.

Either way, he really doesn’t fucking like it. He hates to admit it, but it almost makes him a little scared. Because what the fuck does all this mean? Is he going to die next or something? And that kid from the diner, Justin or whatever really fuckin’ freaked him out… not to mention his dwindling collection of glass cups. What the fuck is up with that anyway? Why does this stupid spirit thing need to break all his nice glass cups? Why can’t they just push over the cheap, plastic ones?

Even though Brian has seen the spirit and knows that it’s a boy, the idea of mentally calling it a ‘he’ just makes it all too real. He’d rather live as close to denial as he can get which unfortunately, at this point… isn’t that much. Even Brian can’t contradict the fact that something is meddling with his life. Especially when he finds himself walking the long way home… and why didn’t he drive his car?

And that’s when he sees him. When he catches blonde hair somewhere in his peripheral and finds himself walking towards him. He doesn’t even know why his feet have started moving this way, because he didn’t do it. He’s suddenly realized that since he left work, he hasn’t really been control of anything, too wrapped up in everything that’s going on in his head to notice.

It’s like someone’s pushed him. _Or should I say, something_ he corrects himself.

Justin sits on a bench at the edge of the park letting his brain work through pages of newly acquired information. The spirits in Pittsburgh are suddenly restless with excitement sending images to his head. He puts his pencil to the paper and finishes another frame of his comic/drawing.

He’s probably been sitting here for hours, how long exactly, he’s unsure. Almost as soon as he sat down, the pictures formed in his head and he got to work, carefully putting the images on paper with all the detail he can muster. Often while he draws, he’ll close his eyes and wait for it. Wait for the murder weapon to reveal itself, the mask to leave the murderer. Unfortunately, today, all he’s gotten is what he’s concluded to be some kind of storyboard of random events.

There’s a group of teenagers in almost every frame that he’s drawn. He figures them to be prostitutes like the latest victim. In a couple of the frames there’s a tall man, masked by the collar of his trench coat. Justin guesses that guy is probably the killer. Every time the trench coat man enters the frame, one of the boys disappears. God, if only Justin could zero in on him, but he can’t. He closes his eyes trying to see the man’s face, but all he finds is darkness.

_You can fucking see me, can’t you?_

Justin looks up, suddenly alarmed by the angry voice that’s yelling at him. “What the-“ He’s even more surprised to find Brian Kinney standing in front of him, the spirit of the first dumpster boy, Jason Kemp, at his side.

“Um, hi,” Brian says stupidly, still lost as to why the fuck he’s standing here, in front of this stranger.  
“Hi…” Justin says slowly trying to figure things out. “And yes, I can see you…” Justin adds directing the statement to the left of Brian.  

Brian stares at him confused. “What’s going on?”

_I need you to help me._

“With what?” Justin asks Jason forgetting to realize Brian will think that he’s addressing him.

“With what? What are talking about?” Brian questions.

_Just please… can you help me?_

“Excuse me! Justin, a _little_ recognition here?” Brian finally explodes unable to stand being ignored. Justin snaps out of it like he was just in a trance and suddenly concentrates on the skinny yet tall man standing in front of him. He takes in the bags under the older man’s hazel eyes and the way his forehead is creased in frustration… or exhaustion. It’s hard to tell.

That’s when Justin realizes it. He can sense it. Brian doesn’t have to say anything for Justin to be able to pick up on this… what kind of person Brian is. Justin can just tell these sorts of things.

“So this ghost won’t leave you alone?” he suddenly asks while putting his drawing books in his bag. He glances down at the pictures he just drew, his hands move clumsily as he rushes to stow them away.

Brian squints his eyes, curiously. “No,” he says and then pauses. “It won’t. You want to explain why you seem to know so much about it?”

There are two general types of people in Justin’s books: the kind that are open to paranormal phenomena and the kind that aren’t. Justin thinks that spirits have some sort of inner directory that keeps them away from individuals that don’t want them around, but sometimes they like to ignore where they’re being directed and that’s when people freak out, call priests, hold exorcisms, burn down their houses and then proceed to take advantage of the situation by signing a book deal right away. Brian though, he looks genuinely put off by the presence of a ghost in his life and seems to just want it gone. Justin can tell.

“I can talk to them, see them. I coexist with them really,” Justin shrugs, getting all of his things packed away and standing up.

“You talk to ghosts?” Brian repeats, loudly, almost laughingly, like he should have expected that was coming. Just then a straight couple walks by hand-in-hand and gives Justin a strange look. Brian doesn’t seem to notice.

“Can we talk about this somewhere, I don’t know… less public?”

Brian looks around and realizes that this could possibly be a _little_ awkward. “Fine, we’ll go to my loft and you can tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Justin doesn’t find any room to argue with that. All he can think to say is, “Yes, sir.”  



	5. Chapter Four

Brian hears a helpless sound and it takes a second for him to realize it’s the boy following behind him. He turns around quickly, just in time to catch Justin as his legs give out from under him. Brian’s arms enfold around the limp torso in an awkward bear bug.

“Whoa, now hey there…” he says mindlessly.

“Vision… bed. Jus’ need’ta… lay down.” Justin mumbles, eyes barely open, now falling shut. His voice tapers off as if it’s becoming distant.

“What th-” Brian quickly rearranges the boy so he’s carrying him like a baby, soft blond hair tucked under the brunettes chin. He stands there awkwardly for a long moment. What are you supposed to do when a near stranger passes out in your arms?

“Is he okay? I just watched him fall.” A tall lanky man with short brown hair and buckteeth comes out of nowhere and speaks with a lisp. The man reaches out to touch Justin, but Brian backs away, protectively.

“He’s fine.”

Brian pushes past the man. Well the boy said something about lying down and they’re only a half a block away from the loft. He hikes Justin up a little, getting a better grip on the warm body in his arms. He begins taking tentative steps forward. Justin’s heavier than Brian expected him to be. He’s more than just baby fat and bones, like Brian’s first impression. Still, something about him whether it’s the unique bone structure, cream colored skin or silky blonde hair gives him an underlying sense of fragility. Like anything, maybe even the wind could break him.

_God, what am I thinking?_ Brian quickly chastises himself. The kid talks to ghosts! He’s not fragile, he’s a freak.

Brian easily kicks the door open then climbs the stairs that lead to the door of the loft. He uses the hand from under Justin’s knees to pull the door to his sanctuary open. When he enters, he finds yet another one  
of his glasses shattered into tiny pieces scattered across the smooth hardwood floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he groans, kicking his head back. “I’ll get you for this,” he mutters threateningly. He uses his foot to get the door shut with ease.

"Nnnngh," Justin stirs, his head rolling into Brian. Brian mindlessly allows himself to gaze upon him.

He’s about to put the boy on the couch when he changes his mind and climbs the steps to place the limp body on his bed. The blonde’s head rolls off to the side as a small noise of approval escapes from heavenly pink lips. He takes a moment to shamelessly admire the freak that sees ghosts.

For a moment he wonders what that must be like. What this kid must have gone through in his life.

Furrowing his brow, he files his thoughts to his subconscious, possibly to be dealt with later, hopefully to be forgotten about. Either way, he’s done thinking about this boy for now.

*

Justin follows the taller man, eyes downcast, concentrating on the heels of Brian’s black Prada shoes. He’s felt slightly light-headed ever since he left the park. At first he figured he’d been sitting down for too long, but the feeling hasn't gone away as blocks of city pass under his feet. He doesn’t know what to think. He can’t tell if the way he’s feeling is paranormal or not, but the answer soon comes as a sudden wave of dizziness catches him off guard.

“Ungh,” he moans unpleasantly, finding himself unable to take another step.

It doesn’t take long for Justin to realize what’s happening to him. Just as he feels his body go slack, and strong arms surround him, he knows what he mistook his lightheadedness for.

“Vision…” he forces passed his lips. He knows that he continues to speak but he’s unsure of what he actually says. That’s when his mind ceases to exist in the same plane as reality.

He’s falling. He’s falling from the sky, the moist clouds dampen his clothes and skin, yet it’s oddly refreshing. He feels more open and free then he’s ever felt before. The longer he’s falls the better he feels, its’ unexplainable, oddly comforting. The ground below, Justin quickly recognizes to be the Pitts. He closes his eyes knowing that as long he trusts that he will feel no pain, there will be no pain.

_Mind over matter. Mind over matter._

He repeats that over and over until he feels his feet hit solid ground. He opens his eyes and finds himself feet from an alley in an area of town that’s associated with wayward youth. The homeless ones and the ones that sell themselves.

He eyes his surroundings cautiously waiting for something to occur. He hears wind in the air, yet can’t feel it. He bites his lip, keeping his mind open and aware.

As if on cue an older man, bald with a generally mean looking face comes around the corner dragging along with him, Justin easily recognizes Jason Kemp.

_Oh shit…_ Justin understands fully now what’s going on. Jason is showing him how he died.

Goosebumps break out along his arms as he shivers suddenly feeling cold.

So does that mean the bald guy is the killer?

The guy is pulling Jason by the wrist; Justin imagines what drove the boy to come to this. At what point in his life he felt the need to leave his home as if selling his body on the street was a better life. A sadness washes over him and he begins to wonder if these feelings are his own or if he really is in Jason's mind.

"You wanna suck me? Yeah you do," the bald guy begins to mumble things like that as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out. Justin looks away as Jason gets on his knees, but forces himself to glance back. He can't chance missing any information. The bald guy seems to be enjoying himself pulling on Jason's hair forcing his erection down the prostitute’s throat.

A man appears almost out of nowhere. He's wearing the trench coat and his face is blacked out, just like in Justin's pictures.

The bald guy is the first to notice the intruder. He shoves Jason on his back without a thought and attempts to get his junk back in his pants.

"Hey! Wuh-" Jason calls out as his trick runs away.

And that's it. Justin watches as Jason gets kicked in the head. His face smashes into the pavement, blood oozes on the ground forming a puddle. Justin can't help but cringe when suddenly he feels the pain as his own. His face turns red hot, like it's burning on fire but worse. He screams, but there's no noise. The cloaked man kicks Jason's face again and for some reason Justin feels it and the pain is beyond anything he's ever felt before. The pain grows, and grows and grows.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey there Sunshine," it's an unfamiliar voice that brings him back, tender and sweet. He feels his body flailing and is relieved when he hears his own cries of pain. Before he can stop himself he's crying, salty tears making streaks along his cheeks. He falls into the man currently trying to get him to calm down, but he can't. He needs to ride this out. Slowly separate his emotions from Jason's. His face still feels hot, but he knows it’s okay, pressed against the warm flesh of Brian…

_Brian?_

Jerking away, Justin wipes at his eyes using his palms. He realizes he’s on a bed in a place he’s doesn’t recognize. Once things come into focus he sees Brian sitting on the bed with him. He eyes Justin with a look somewhere between concern, confusion, and annoyance, if it’s possible. Justin sniffs and looks down at the duvet.

“You going to live?” Brian questions, deciding to stay on the bed.

Justin just nods, not sure if he can trust his voice.

“You going to tell me what the fuck that was or what the hell is going on with me?”

Justin nods again, taking a deep breath still trying to get his breathing back to normal only half listening.

“Can you talk?”

Brian’s voice turns demanding and rude, but Justin isn’t fazed by it.

“Yes,” he croaks, which considering his luck turns into a coughing fit.

Brian claps him on the back before he stands up to retrieve something to drink from the kitchen. He grabs two bottled waters, returning to his bedroom and throwing one at the kid.

“Thanks.” Justin mumbles, catching it and twisting the top. He takes a sip and swallows, feeling better afterwards. He gets himself on shaky feet, having to find his balance points.

“So that’s a vision?” Brian leads them out of his room to his Italian furniture set. He gestures for Justin to take a seat and the boy does at one end of the couch. Brian takes it upon himself to occupy the other side.

“I don’t usually have visions like that,” Justin explains.

“Visions like what?”

“I watched Jason die… and then felt it.”

“Who’s Jason?”

“Jason is the dumpster boy… the first one. He’s the spirit that’s following you around.”

As the words leave his mouth, Justin’s eyes catch Brian’s and they share a heavy moment of silence…

“By saying you felt it, you’re implying-“

“His face was smashed into the pavement and kicked multiple times and I could feel the ground ripping the flesh of his face. His skull cracking, nose breaking. I felt it all,” Justin clarifies while reliving the fresh memories. At the time he didn't realize how deep Jason had connected them, but now thinking about it, everything was so vivid. He should have known.

Brian looks at him, thinks and considers. He was zoning out on the couch when Justin started screaming as he came out of his vision or what-the-fuck-ever it was. He was yelling out in pain, and not just like a bad nightmare. Like Brian thought the kid had somehow managed to set himself on fire. He ran into the room and saw the boy was simply coming to, but the way he was screaming, Brian didn't know what to do. So he got down on the bed and wrapped his arms around Sunshine pulling him close. That's when Justin woke up and seemed to melt into his skin.

The look on Justin’s face makes Brian want to do that again. Wrap him up. Keep him safe and warm… Feel him melt.

He wants to make Justin melt.


End file.
